Dance Classes
by The Dirty Sisterz
Summary: It's hard to adjust to someone with a makeover right? Then it must be twice as bad when the makeover hasn't exactly turned out 'successful' And...when the person is SEVERAL years older than you...
1. Bloody Hell!

**.x-Bloody Hell!-x.**

A/N: 'Ello! This ficlet will have several chapters. So that's more to enjoy! Review please, so as to keep us motivated!

Disclaimer: We don't have the honor of owning Harry Potter and the gang. If we did, Ron and the lovely Professor would actually get together in the book/movie. Imagine that, why don't you.

-

Ron's POV:

-

"Bloody hell!" I yell when I walk into a hard concrete wall.

Then, "Shut up Harry," who's laughing at me.

I look sheepishly at everyone's faces as they're staring me down. God, all I did was shout. Well…in the hallway.

But it's not like I interrupted anything. All we're doing is walking.

And, damn it, I can't help it if I'm thinking more than usual. I have a problem on my mind.

The fancy pansy ball that all the schools were coming to is coming on really fast, and I still have no date.

And now we find out from Flitwick that we have to learn _how _to dance. Like I care if I can dance or not. And everyone knows that there isn't a thing that could be more bloody boring to do.

And now he's shouting behind his tiny shoulder, (adding to my headache) our teacher is gonna be McGonagall. Way to make it suck more.

We were all gonna miss Potions though, so I resisted my urge to skip class and ended up trudging along beside my best mates Harry and Hermione.

It was practically a free block anyways. I figured that all I really had to do was pretend like I was listening. It's never been that hard. Hermione has been the perfect person to experiment it on…if you've ever heard her rant on about wolfs bane you'd know. All you really gotta do is smile and nod every now and then, and yeah, you're 'listening.'

So anyways Harry's talking about the latest quidditch moves that he learned from some book Hermione lent him. I'm just trying to nurse my head, barely taking any of it in. I mean, when exactly did Hermione get personally interested in quidditch enough to find _Harry _a book to read on it?

Lately, she's been acting way out of character. And I have considered the Polyjuice Potion. It's not the reason for her weirdness. What I mean by weirdness is…

When she marks my homework now, she hums to herself. And she's not even paying attention in class. We had to pull her out of her seat cause she didn't even notice half the class had left to follow the Professor. What the hell?

And…she's drawing hearts in her notebook. I know cause I was looking for her notes on the lifespan of the plants Professor Sprout had been talking about…and ended up finding pages full of little hearts. There aren't any initials or anything and I felt guilty of seeing the doodles…so I haven't even found the heart to bug her about it.

She likes someone. I think that's what it all points to. Either that or she has a heart fetish.

I've been guessing at who she could like…and I think it might be Krum. My PREVIOUS quidditch hero.Yeah. Harry's gonna be better than that stupid moron.

Krum's just a cruddy big shot with a bloated up head that just walks in here and figures he owns the place. How could Hermione like someone like that? She deserves someone better…like…someone better!

THANK YOU MERLIN we've finally arrived at the place where we're gonna have the dance lessons! McGonagall is standing in the doorway and beckons us inside. Whoa…I don't think I've ever been in this part of the castle.

McGonagall tells us to sit down while she leaves the room. I honestly barely noticed, cause I still can't get over how giant Hogwarts is, I really wonder how I don't get lo-

MY EYES MY EYES MY EYES!!!!! Ouch, shock to the retina. I think that's what that's called. Ugh…I'm not about to ask Mione though. She'd give me an hour long lecture.

I lean over to Harry and whisper, "Are my eyes bleeding Harry?"

Grinning at me he says, "No, but are mine?"

I smirk and then my eyes bug out again when I see the witch that had re-entered the room.


	2. McGonagall

**.x-McGonagall.-x.**

A/N: Here we go folks! Next chappie. And thanks to those that reviewed!

Disclaimer: We still don't own anything to do with Harry Potter and his friends. Not even the makeup that someone's wearing! lol.

-

Ron's POV:

-

McGonagall was wearing some form of...what's it called? Oh right. Make-up. That gross stuff that muggle women put on themselves to look better. Thing was, it wasn't the same thing for McGonagall. No offense to her, but she looked a bit...more...she looked..well, worse.

Whatever she had put on her skin made her wrinkles show right through, actually making them more noticeable. And on her eyes were these freakishly long fake eyelashes that extended way past her eyebrows.

I shudder uncontrollably when I take in the rest.

On her eyelids there's a thickly applied vomit-green shade of eye shadow. And on her chalky lips, the brightest shade of pink I have ever seen in my life. It's wilder than Tonk's hair.

I turn to Finnigan who's behind me and make a gagging noise and stick my finger in my mouth. I mean, what was McGonagall thinking? Dumbledore wasn't even here to be…ahem..._impressed_.

Finnigan then smirks at me in a way that says 'you're screwed' and points to a spot behind my shoulder.

I immediately go extremely red, a stupid habit I can't shake. I turn around real slowly, dreading what my punishment's gonna be. Sure enough, McGonagall's behind me, and her hand's extended in some sort of greeting, not in the position for a slap.

I'm really confused here, so I just sit and wait for someone to suggest what I should do. I probably look pretty ditzy, cause Hermione elbows me in the side. Ow. It hurt. To be more of a total bitch, she tells, no -hisses- at me to dance with McGonagall!!

What is she, mad? Well I don't think I'd be much surprised if she was, with the way _she _acts.

So I decide to piss her off and stare at her with the same blank look.

It works, since she shoves me forward so hard that I barely stop myself from crashing right into McGonagall. Ew.

I turn even redder at the idea of touching her, and I hear snickering all around me.

I look back for help and see Malfoy whisper something to Crabbe and Goyle, and they begin to laugh. Probably some pun about me. In this really really uncomfortable situation. I'll show him what I think is funny, the stupid prick.

I put on my best death glare, and I start moving toward him. Thinking how great it would be to choke him.

I'm stopped dead short when McGonagall GRABS ME. She takes my hands and put them on her _waist. _What the bloody hell?!

I'm about to tell her that I'm not fricken Dumbledore, and that she should go find him if she wants to be touched when she interrupts.

"Mr. Weasley, would you kindly join me in dancing so we can finish this class before dusk?"

The class roars with laughter and I figure it would be a good time for a spider to come eat me.

McGonagall whips her head around to glare at them and everyone shuts up. I let myself grin.

She turns back and smiles at me…and it's so freakin creepy and her wrinkles are crinkling up!

I think I just twitched.

So we dance a few rounds to the same bad song and McGonagall squeezes my shoulder the whole bloody time and I think I'm gonna be fucking sick. She explains the steps of the dance for everyone to learn. No one's listening.

Not even Hermione.

She lets me go when I start to taste vomit in my mouth.

The class explodes in applause, and she dismisses everyone with a wave of her hand.

I go really pale when McGonagall whispers to me, fixing my shirt collar.

"See me in my office tonight Weasley. 12pm sharp. Do not be late. Understand?"

"Ye…ye…yes Professor." I try to swallow the bad feeling rising up my throat.

She smiles a crinkly smile, the lipstick drying up on her lips.

What…what the bloody hell could she want now?

I stand there frozen. Looking into her eyes that are coated in fake powdery shadow.

Harry brings me back to the present when he calls out to me.

"Ron, you coming? We have Defense against the Dark Arts next. If we're late again, we'll get it for sure."

I blink a few times and walk away from McGonagall.

"Yeah let's go."

I get my papers hurriedly and we leave the class.

The place I would now think of as a fucking hellhole.


	3. In Preparation

**.x-In Preparation.-x.**

A/N: Thanks to the reviews guys! Sorry for the wait!

Disclaimer: We don't own McGonagall or Ron. Or anyone for that matter.

-

McGonagall's POV:

-

I whistle as I strut through the deserted hallways, hearing snippets of lectures as I walk by half-open doors.

Minerva McGonagall, you've got yourself a date! A rush of exhilaration floods through my veins at the thought.

_Why, I'm acting like a giddy little schoolgirl!_

An accidental giggle escapes my lips and echos down the empty corridor before me.

I blush for about the first time since my school days. Speaking of blushing, Mr. Weasley had been doing plenty of that this afternoon.

My blush fades and I reflect on his reaction to my advances.

He had seemed so…reluctant with me. The other students surely hadn't helped, prodding each other and muttering senseless jokes under their breath. Thank goodness a glare from me could still extract some respect from them.

I simply couldn't stand another bout of reluctance like that again. So it was time to ask for some help, even if the source was a questionable one. A successful one, in any case.

Yes, Severus would have to help me concoct something to encourage Mr. Weasley to be a tad more willing towards me. Seems my little makeover didn't do the trick. What is an ageing woman supposed to do?

I don't think he's teaching any potions this afternoon. Perfect! This means he has enough time to create a love potion at my request, don't you think?

Normally I would tell students that this is uncalled for behavior and love potions are overrated, etcetera etcetera, etcetera. But I'm a woman on a mission…and I don't believe I'll be stopping till I've gotten what my heart has set its sights on. Which is Mr. Weasley's affection.

I approach Severus' dank office calmly, already forming the sentences that I will say.

Five minutes later I exit his office with an air of importance, a tiny smile on my face.

Severus shuts his door behind me, his face full of utter contempt. Oh yes, and annoyance as well. But that can easily be mistaken to be his usual expression.

I've added several tiresome hours of toil to his schedule, and he doesn't have any idea why. Satisfied with myself, I go to my private chambers to ready myself for tonight.

I now only need to worry of how I can slip Mr. Weasley the potion.

Surely he's paid _some _attention in Potions class and would recognize what it was?

Oh who am I kidding. I haven't exactly chosen a genius.

He probably hasn't paid attention in Potions longer than to make fun of Severus behind his back.

Still, best to be inconspicuous, since he does hang around with that Ms.Granger. She could have put all sorts of ideas into his head.

I sit on my futon and ponder this new dilemma.

My muscles begin to cramp and I stretch to relieve the tension in my body. In as catlike a way as I can.

To make a better job of it, I transform into my feline form. And stretch in the best and most pleasurable way that only a cat knows how.

I suddenly get a vision of me sitting on Weasley's lap, purring with contentment and licking myself clean…after what??

I shake my head and clear my throat loudly.

For no apparent reason I glance around my pad, as if someone could have possibly read my dirty thoughts.

But of course that is ridiculous. There's no one here.

Unless this prickly sensation is that pesky woman…

How dare she spy on me! In that idiotic crystal sphere! But…of course, why would she be even remotely interested in me enough to spy? She's eccentric, but not that much so…at least I don't think.

Oh dear, I think…that I've been watching too many of those Muggle soap operas. And listening to silly little songs.

Who exactly is "Stacy's mom" anyways? I'd like to be like her. Having a young boy worship me enough to have a song written about me.

There I go again! Well, it may happen soon enough…

I laugh excitedly, and a yawn almost replaces my smile.

I should get some beauty sleep.

After all, I want to look my best for when my young love gets to explore a new land tonight.

I giggle at the statement. What would Trelawney think about that dirty little plan?

Ah well, her opinion doesn't matter. We'll see what Mr. Weasley shall think of it. We'll see at 12pm sharp, as I instructed.

Oh he'll be there, I'm sure he's much too curious to miss it.


End file.
